It's All A Matter Of Perspective
by fringeperson
Summary: oneshot, don't own, complete. The thing about prophecy is that it is and always will be open to interpretation, and there could well be more than one meaning to them, but humans have a tendency to see the obvious, rather than delve into the hidden.


_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. … Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. … The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_

James had become an animagus right under Dumbledore's nose and the man never even knew about it. Didn't know when he helped two of his friends learn either.

Lily had held onto her friendship with Severus, a Slytherin, even when all those in her house bullied her for it. Even right to the end, even after he'd called her a mudblood in front of everybody and apparently ruined their friendship forever. He'd come back later and apologised quietly, saying it would be better for them both to look like they weren't friends any more. They stayed friends by writing each other letters, even though they were living in the same building. Even Dumbledore didn't know that they had stayed friends after that incident.

Rather than Sirius, the obvious choice for Secret Keeper, they chose Peter. They told no-one. Not even the man who was the leader of the Order of the Phoenix.

~oOo~

Harry was born just before midnight on the thirty-first of July. Lily had been pushing for an induced labour before then or holding the boy in until after, but as with all babies, they will come when they will come unless the doctor orders otherwise.

~oOo~

"Can't you at least do something about that scar Albus?"

"I would not my dear even if I could," he answered, even as he wove enchantments over the boy to restrict the growth of his magic. He didn't want someone so famous as Harry Potter stealing his position as top of the pecking-order of the magical community after all. "I have found that scars can indeed be very useful. I myself have one on my knee which is a perfect map of the London Underground."

~oOo~

Harry worked hard at his chores every day, and because his aunt didn't want to be spoken ill of for starving him, he was also well fed and therefore quite fit for a child his age. There was also an odd thing about him that people felt compelled to be truthful with him, at least as far as they understood truth. So when he met Draco Malfoy, the boy was very snobbish about being pure-blooded, but _also_ said that he'd heard it all from his father and believed him. When he met the Weasleys, Molly almost instantly admitted that she was getting paid to keep an eye on him by Dumbledore, and that was why she had said 'muggles' so loudly and talked about platform nine-and-three-quarters where said muggles could easily over-hear her.

When Harry faced Voldemort the first time, the man bragged long and loud about his precautions against death. Harry wrote it all down and sent it off to the head of the DMLE – having found out about her from Malfoy, who'd told Harry how his father had avoided being put away by the woman with some clever hidden rooms – with a signed contract stating that, as far as he knew, all details that he had included were completely true.

Voldemort would be completely gone by the time Harry returned to Hogwarts for his second year.

~oOo~

"Harry, dear boy, what can I do for you?" Dumbledore asked, smiling from behind his desk, his blue eyes twinkling. "You go home tomorrow don't you?"

"_You_ called _me_ here Headmaster," Harry countered easily. "I'm supposed to ask that question."

"You can die," Dumbledore said. "That would suit me very well. You're a danger to my position, a threat to my carefully orchestrated plans. You _will_ die, dear boy."

Harry blinked. "I don't think I really want to do that Headmaster. I may not have had a very nice life up to this point, but I'd like to give the rest of my life a try before calling it quits."

Then Harry was being forced to defend himself against superior spell-fire. He didn't know many offensive or even defensive spells. DADA had been mostly theory, preparing them to start practising the potentially dangerous spells the next year. As in the bathroom where he had saved Hermione from a troll – the git Ron having said, very plainly, that he _hoped_ the know-it-all got killed and refused to come help – Harry used the levitation spell, lifting something that looked appropriately heavy and dropping it on top of the headmaster, hoping only to knock him out before running straight to the hospital wing for Madame Pompfrey.

An hour later, when the woman was assured that he was fine, it was learned that Dumbledore had in fact been _killed_ when Harry dropped the rather fat tome on top of his head. There was an inquiry by the DMLE of course, but Harry was found innocent as it had been self-defence.

A lot of people weren't sure if they should cheer the boy or ridicule him though.

~The End~


End file.
